


All the survivors singing in the rain

by risinggreatness



Series: Circle 'round the sun [86]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:48:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risinggreatness/pseuds/risinggreatness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mara’s fears are realized when her parents make a long overdue appearance (not EU compliant)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the survivors singing in the rain

Shmi’s nose itches, but reaching for a scratch will earn her an accusation of signaling from Uncle Han. It takes far less for Bee and Sam to do the same and Uncle Han’s not about to ban them from games where he’s invested, like he did with dad and Aunt Leia. And that only sticks because mom agrees.

Shmi wiggles her nose in futile attempt to alleviate it.

“Something to say, padawan?” Master Seddwia teases.

“I’m warning you both in advance my nose is itchy. Any sudden movement on my part is just trying to make it go away. Not a secret signal to either of you about your hands, although yours is lousy, Uncle Han.”

He slams his cards down on the table. Master Seddwia laughs. Shmi scratches.

“You counting cards?” he groans.

“Mom says you tend to look around when you’re losing.”

“Unbelievable,” he mutters.

“Come on now, Shmi, this isn’t any way to treat our guest.”

“Well, it feels rude to cheat on Jedi transport,” Uncle Han admits.

“Speaking of which,” Master Seddwia stands, “Shmi, check to see if we’ve arrived at Corellia yet.”

“Just don’t pull us out of hyperspace too fast!” Uncle Han yells to Shmi’s retreating back.

The console of _The Daughter II_ is remarkably similar to _Jade’s Fire_ , but then the similarity was deliberate when the Temple acquired its transports. Small freighters only – nothing flashy with difficult to replace parts.

Readouts indicate they’ll arrive at the planet in minutes. There isn’t much point to going back out to the hold, so Shmi flops into the pilot’s seat, pushing her boots up against the dashboard, scratching her nose to her heart’s content.

“How’s the view?” Master Seddwia leans on the back of the seat. Shmi stops slouching to throw the switch in time.

Master Seddwia’s recounted fond memories of the system ( _“Well, what passes for fond.”_ ) while she lived life on the run. Uncle Han’s only real prospect today is meeting up with Uncle Chewie and the Falcon.

For Shmi, it means mom for the first time in a week.

“Great,” Shmi confirms as Corellia swoops into their eyeline.

Master Seddwia takes over for the landing; Uncle Han teases something about not trusting Skywalkers to fly ships he occupies. Shmi huffs.

“Don’t take it personally, kid.”

The ship is docked in a small out of the way port deep in Cornet City, short of descending into the bowels of the capitol. Master Seddwia slips the port authority the credits while Uncle Han and Shmi case the perimeter.

There are countless nooks and crannies; too many to be ambushed from. An imagined shadow moves in the dark out of the corner of Shmi’s eye. Her hand moves to the cool hilt of her lightsaber, ready to ignite.

“And who’s this little knight?” the shadow teases, but it is edged with unmistakable pride.

“Mom!” Shmi cries out softly, in recognition of the old affectionate nickname, throwing her arms into the direction of the disembodied voice. Mom’s arms catch her; no visuals needed to confirm for either of them.

“Hey, I could be tricking you,” mom warns lightly.

“Not likely.”

“Good to see you made it,” Master Seddwia says from behind.

“Same to you, and just in the nick of time. Chewie –” mom nods to Uncle Han “– and I cornered where this crew is camped out. There aren’t too many of them, so it should be a quick job.”

Master Seddwia shakes her head, “When will pirates ever learn?”

“Evidentially never,” Uncle Han says, though good-naturedly.

“Chewie’s up a couple levels – we wanted to keep our distance. The gang itself is down one and in the bar on the block south of us. I’ll send you the coordinates once we’re split.” Mom gestures for Uncle Han to follow her.

Master Seddwia steps off in the opposite direction. Shmi wants to follow mom, but must go with her master. She plants a kiss on mom’s cheek before running off behind Master Seddwia; the way to reunite with them, just later.

\----------

The bar looks like any of the thousands of dingy establishments Han found himself stumbling out of over the years. Visiting slowed down significantly by the time he found himself entrenched in the war and now – well, he gets into much nicer places these days.

“Chewie says there’s only about half a dozen of them – most of them older,” Mara hisses under her breath as they slip into the dim, smoke-filled bar.

She throws the hood of her Jedi robes up. Han mentally debates how conspicuous her attire makes them, but another cloaked patron comes in, and Han lets out his held in breath. Chewie plants himself on the far side behind a table and a large tankard, where it’s the darkest. Han and Mara circle through the crowd, narrowing in on the table where the head of the gang is reported to hold court.

Han’s almost made it when he could swear he hears the tell-tale click of a blaster readying to fire, but it is hard to tell in the clinking of glasses and alcohol-filled voices. Still, just to be sure, his hand looses his blaster from the holster.

Mara’s in Han’s periphery, stock still in the swirl of movement pushing past her, a man with a gun trained at her back. Chewie’s disappeared into the crowd; Han begins pushing towards her.

He’s close enough to hear the man rasp with a sneer, “You don’t think we didn’t know Jedi were coming for us?”

Even in the low light, Han can see Mara’s face inexplicably turn chalk grey. Han doesn’t understand. Mara could put the old man flat on the floor with her left elbow and not think much of it. Everything they’ve heard about Madak and his gang has been petty and little, the clinging vestige of the pirate wars from years before.

The man laughs at Mara’s immobility, “Not gonna do anything? How –”

Han’s almost close enough to reach Mara’s would-be capture, but she’s found her voice again, at least. None of the other bar patrons take notice of this standoff.

“Where’s Syrule?” she croaks, voice nearly matching the man’s.

Han does not remember any ‘Syrule’ in the debriefing material, but then maybe Mara and Chewie overheard something, though her tone would hardly be this strangled.

“How do you –”

The man’s pause hangs long enough for Han to get to his side, Chewie on the other.

“I believe she asked you a question,” Han jabs the end of his blaster in the man’s side. Chewie looms.

Han’s known more pathetic looking men to stand down with all of Chewie simply towering over them, but he pays almost no mind to the two of them, solely fixed on Mara.

“Oh, you know what she does when we make a contact: spots trouble, takes care of it. Saw your other Jedi pals – the twi’lek and the kid –”

Han and Chewie – and the immediate crowd – are taken aback as the man’s thrown back. Mara stays in place, hood thrown back and intently glaring at the man she’s just put into the wall, if Han’s honest, in a terrifyingly Vader-like fashion.

“Mara, what the hell –” Han and Chewie’s approaches are halted by Mara’s single raised hand. Han turns to the stunned audience, “Just a disagreement about the bill,” he grits through his teeth. Most seem to accept this, since the violence passed quickly.

“Isn’t that interesting?” the man manages between short breaths as he struggles up.

Mara stands over him but does nothing to restrain him either. She shakes with the potential for the Force to go haywire, Han recognizes.

“If she’s done anything to Shmi, I swear to every god I will –”

Staggering to stand, “Relax. If you’ve managed to make her a grandmother, she might have been curious enough to see –”

Well shit.

Mara snatches Han’s blaster away and aims it at her old man’s chest. Han’s protesting ‘hey’ finally warrants the man’s attention.

“General Solo?” He glances at Chewie, “And the wookiee Chewbacca? We Jades keep much better company these days, don’t we? Of course, that would come with tricking a war hero into marrying you and these pretentions of knighthood –”

“Don’t fool yourself, Antar, you’re still nothing and I’ve kept my daughter away from far worse than you.” Her hand does not shake and her voice is razor sharp, “You are going to take me to my daughter and our friend and then I am truly going to never see you or Syrule again.”

Antar snorts in derision, but allows himself to lead the way. Mara tosses Han his blaster back, he catches it awkwardly. He and Chewie push through to catch up with Mara and Antar, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

Some family, Chewie barks.

\----------

The alley’s damp and smells like weeks’ worth of garbage. Shmi puts the long sleeve of her robe up to her nose, hoping to block the odor.

“You can’t expect pirates to convene at nice places,” says Master Seddwia wryly. “Or at least expect us to stake them out in nice places.”

Shmi’s mind flicks to the well-worn story of the trash compactor and grins. Or at least her eyes tell Master Seddwia she’s grinning; most of her face is still covered.

“Check that end for stragglers; I’ll go to the other,” Master Seddwia directs her.

Shmi sees and senses nothing, but everyone’s been talking about how the pirate gangs and clans are less and less bold. This gang is barely a blip, which is why Shmi assumes mom and dad gave the go-ahead for her to come on the mission.

She wishes for more action, but is at least grateful her parents let her go. Some of her friends at the Temple have parents who send them there, only to panic once they’re padawans. Sam has noted at the dinner table many times there isn’t any point to sending your kid to the Temple if you expect them to stay there the whole time; the rest of them agree. Those comments usually are quieted by scolding from the parents, but _really_. What is the point?

Shmi waits at the end of the alley for a minute more. Still nothing.

Her sigh almost drowns out the crackle of a comm from above. Shmi’s eyes shoot upwards.

“Master Seddwia, get down!” she yells just in time for her teacher to duck out of the way of blaster fire. Shmi begins to run down the narrow passage to reach Master Seddwia’s side, but a pair of hands grab her and jerk her back.

“Not so fast,” says the owner of the restraining hand. Shmi jerks as hard as she might and when her fight does not free her, she kicks backwards, slamming her foot into their leg.

Temporarily distracted by the pain, Shmi wrenches free from her captor, ignites her lightsaber, and continues towards where she last saw Master Seddwia.

She nearly collides with her, her master intent on finding her padawan and dealing with the encroaching pirates together. Though they are not outnumbered by many, the high alley walls box them in tightly. Shmi spins around to face them. Although she feels safer watching for Master Seddwia’s cue, they do not have the luxury today.

“As I live and breathe, you’re practically a spitting image,” says the oldest of the group.

It would be stupid to ask who the woman means; Shmi knows full well who she takes after. The only question is who in the group knows mom and why doesn’t Shmi recognize her? She’s never seen her with the crowds Karrde runs with, unless –

The odds are astronomical, but the same wave of recognition crashes over Shmi. Even less spoken of than dad’s father, there’s mom’s parents.

( _She cannot speak to mom about them; it’s the closest Shmi ever sees mom to tears. She can’t talk about Anakin Skywalker with Bee and Sam, they go tight-lipped. She’ll be an annoying kid to Pres and dad – well. He can say whatever he wants but Shmi wonders if there’s a nagging voice reminding him he really is the one who destroyed his father’s last remains._

_Shmi stands in the eye of her family’s storm._ )

“Shmi, is everything alright?” Master Seddwia asks, betraying no nerves.

“Yes,” Shmi answers, though her voice wavers ever so slightly.

“Interesting name, where’d it come from?” her… grandmother drawls. She glances up and down at the still lit lightsaber in Shmi’s hands.

Shmi bites her tongue.

( _The worst of it is Shmi can_ see _flashes of mom in this woman’s face. She is at least satisfied the woman limps slightly from her wrestle for temporary freedom._ )

“No matter, we’ll have plenty of time to talk.” The woman waves her hand to another one of the pirates. “Might as well bring the twi’lek too.”

Shmi may hold to her voice to keep herself calm, but Master Seddwia has not lost hers. She brandishes her own lightsaber at the approaching captors. They all have the sense to back off.

“You’ll stand trial for –”

“Nice try, Jedi, but you’re coming with me. I know you fools don’t kill and the worst any government can do is throw us in prison.”

“Then we are your prisoners. Come along, Shmi,” says Master Seddwia firmly, near defiantly. There is no resignation in her voice.

\----------

Lightsaber hilt firmly pressed into Antar’s back, Mara finds herself in a position she dearly would have loved to hold at the age of fifteen.   Not the mix of fear, hatred, and intense indifference she was locked into when it came to her parents. No false idolization here.

( _Gods, Shmi is fifteen._ )

The four of them make their way into the back alley; Antar whistles to Syrule the coast is clear.

No response.

“She’s already got them then,” Antar offers unhelpfully.

“No shit, but she is more the brains of the operation,” Mara spits, no intention of stopping herself.

Antar spins around, with a glare that would have made Mara back down as a kid. Chewie pushes himself between the two of them before it escalates, and Han yells out ‘Hey, hey, hey!’ what Mara knows he thinks is the most steadying of commands.

“Get the wookiee out of my face,” Antar yells. Mara’s delighted to hear panic in his voice. “I ain’t telling you anything about where your kid’s at unless these two go.”

And Seddwia. Mara feels the surge of guilt for being the one to convince her to join the New Order in the first place.

“Chewie, back off,” Han says, a little more authoritatively.

“Get back to the Falcon. I’ll send you coordinates once we’ve found them all,” Mara says. She’s surprised when Antar does not protest.

He probably thinks they’ll back off the whole operation once Shmi and Seddwia are back. Mara thinks she’s ready to make that offer.

Once Han and Chewie disappear, Antar lets out a bark of laughter.

“Look at you, giving orders to big names. Is that just a perk of –”

Mara hits him hard in the shoulder before he can finish the thought. She envies Luke’s opportunity to wail on his own father, but she does not have the luxury. ( _Nor did he, but she can be the better person at times, she thinks bitterly._ )

“Get moving,” she says gruffly.

They work their way through back channels and a crowded avenue in silence. Mara pushes him along faster and faster, for every second stalled is one lost. She trusts Syrule only just slightly more to make rational decisions, but it is an ‘only just.’

Antar comes to an abrupt halt in a place that is barely large enough to hold a small freighter, but could serve the purpose.

Nothing, no one, is there.

“You better know where they are, or you’re going to regret a lot,” she spits. Into her comm, “Falcon, stay on for more information.”

\----------

The binders chafe the more Shmi wriggles against them. She can’t help herself, especially when she notices Master Seddwia fights them too.

“It’s about doing more than surviving,” she tells her. Master Seddwia knows it too well.

The door to the storage locker slides open; someone’s hands roughly grab Shmi’s shoulders and yank her up. They leave Master Seddwia behind.

She is placed before their captain; then the pair is left alone. Both her and Master Seddwia’s lightsabers are hooked to the woman’s belt, not that Shmi has any clue how to wield one with her hands behind her back, let alone two.

“Sit.”

She does as she is commanded because there is no other choice. Her shoulders bang awkwardly against the seat.

“If I were to contact higher-ups in the New Republic, I could find a way to negotiate with your father, could I not?”

“I don’t know why he’d ever speak to you,” Shmi says, thinking more of mom.

“See, that’s where you become useful. Why would someone like General Skywalker not speak to his own brat?”

“All this to stop the New Republic and the Jedi Order following you? Wow.” Then quickly, before the woman can speak, “What about Master Seddwia?”

“Free to go with you when the deal is made. Just holding her as a precaution.”

Shmi’s blood boils at the indignity of it all.

There is a pause. “Something your grandfather wouldn’t think to do. I assume your mother’s told you nothing of us or her past. Probably how she ended up with Skywalker, isn’t it? She was always very good at lying –”

Shmi breaks her silence, rage pumping through her.

“You don’t even know her! You don’t know what happened to her or what she did after she ran away! You didn’t care and I’m glad you didn’t!”

Shmi can’t remember standing. A faint smirk curls on her grandmother’s face.

( _Why did everyone who brought her family forth have to be so awful?_ )

“Back to the locker with you, young lady.”

She’s far too old for it, but when she’s back with Master Seddwia, she cries bitterly. Master Seddwia cradles her as best she can.

\----------

“She’ll be moving, you know,” Antar reminds Mara when she can’t get a clear set of coordinates out of him.

Mara huffs, but hands the steering over to him. If he crashes and destroys her ship – it is all replaceable in the end.

The door to the cockpit slides shut behind her. She looks at the comm cupped in her hand.

The first call is easy.

“Trace the exhaust signature on me; be ready for trouble on the other end. Thanks Chewie.”

She gulps before the second.

“Wasn’t expecting to hear from you this trip. I believe the phrase ‘incredibly easy’ was thrown around once or twice –”

“It’s _them_ , Luke. And they took Shmi and it’s every nightmare I’ve had about them worming their way back into my life.”

Instead of losing control, of breaking down crying, Mara grinds her teeth. There is focus in anger; the Mara she used to be lingers in dark corners.

“Where are you?” Luke is deathly quiet. He won’t talk her back from the edge if he’s veering in the same direction. It’s up to her.

Sharply, “Luke, don’t. You coming after us will just tempt them into something worse. I think they can be bought easily for a blind eye. We can’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not letting you go through this alone,” he insists.

“I’m not – sort of. Han and Chewie are tailing us in the Falcon.”

“Us?”

“My father. It’s my mother who caught Shmi and Seddwia.”

“So it’s an internal Jedi affair, not just our family’s politics –”

“Don’t try to rationalize the kidnapping of our daughter and our friend!” she cries, now truly feeling helpless.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he almost pleads, rubbing his forehead in contemplation. “I’ll talk to Chewie and Han – find out what direction you’re headed and I’ll catch up as fast as I can.”

They are silent then Luke speaks for a final time, “I need to be there when you get her back.”

“I need you there too.”

Mara stays seated on the floor for a long time before returning to the cockpit.

\----------

When they’re pulled out from the storage locker, Shmi’s grandmother is nowhere to be seen. The smugglers who aided in their capture are there, forming a protective half ring around them.

None of them get close, leery of the presence of two Jedi. They were fortunate once; they might not be again.

“You said she’s got them on her belt?” Master Seddwia almost inaudibly.

Shmi jerks her chin down in the affirmative.

In the same faint voice, “If this isn’t a handoff, we’ll knock these ones out, find her, and get our lightsabers back. It’ll be easier from there.”

Shmi nods again, though still uncertain of how she will manage her lightsaber from behind her back.

“Good girl.”

“Skywalker, come here,” her grandmother barks. A small hole is made in the ring of pirates. Shmi is slow to stand and takes in a deep breath, then steps forward.

Back in the cockpit, she sees the familiar shape of _Jade’s Fire_ , and lets the breath out.

“You know who this belongs to?”

“It’s mom’s.”

She nods, pointing to the navigational readout, “And what about that one?”

“That’s the Falcon.”

“Isn’t that something? Getting tailed by the galaxy-famous _Millennium Falcon_ ,” she replies, more to herself than to Shmi. Nodding curtly to one of her subordinates, “You can take her now.”

“Both mom and the Falcon are here,” she tells Master Seddwia when seated back next to her.

Cheerfully, “Then this should be easier than I thought.”

“Quiet!” a smuggler yells, but Master Seddwia just grins. Her confidence fills the bottom of Shmi’s stomach pleasantly.

Some of the smugglers stay to watch them; others head to the airlock for different security. The clanking of two ships connecting seems to drag on forever. Shmi tries meditation, but it does not lessen the anxious buzz slowly returning.

Shmi spots mom first. Shmi jumps up, ready to run to her, but the man with mom throws an arm out in front of her, preventing mom from doing the very same thing.

The remaining flecks of red in his hair identify him immediately.

“Are you okay?” mom asks, in a voice she might have used with her when she was five.

“We’re fine,” Master Seddwia responds in a clear voice. Some of the tense lines in mom’s face ease.

“The deal, Mara,” the man warns. Mom nods.

Shmi and Master Seddwia are freed from their binders. When Shmi runs to mom, her grip around her wrist is nearly as tight.

Shmi doesn’t even want to glance back, but mom stops short.

“We have a deal, but if you ever come near my daughter again, my husband and I will come after you with a fury that will make wish you’d never had the misfortune to have me.”

She spins around on her heel; it takes barely any effort to drag Shmi after her.

“Our lightsabers, mom,” she hisses as they pass her grandmother.

What if they see it as a loophole and never give them back? Shmi can think of few things more embarrassing than surviving a half-hearted kidnapping, only to lose the most important thing she owns.

Master Seddwia catches the beat and summons them both into her hands. Her grandmother scowls, but their party is past noticing what any of the smuggler gang does.

“Let this be a lesson, padawan. Don’t give your lightsaber to just anyone and make sure they’re going to give it back.”

Shmi’s head spins slightly as they walk onto _Jade’s Fire_. Mom speaks quietly to Master Seddwia about returning to Corellia, never letting go of Shmi. She only half listens, wishing desperately for home.

_Jade’s Fire_ locks with the Falcon; Master Seddwia departs with a reassuring squeeze on Shmi’s shoulder.

Alone, it is mom who throws herself around Shmi, fingers catch and snag in her hair, planting kisses on top of her head.

“I’m so, so, sorry baby. I made all these ridiculous promises when you were born you wouldn’t have to see any of your grandparents and I couldn’t keep them.”

Shmi pulls back, too smothered by the excess of attention. Mom takes a hard look at her.

“Are you okay?”

Shmi supposes mom asks because she wants Shmi to ask her in turn, when the answer is clearly no. Shmi gnaws on her bottom lip.

Slowly, “Yeah. Or I will be. I think.”

Mom mutters under her breath, “I should have taken a closer look at the aliases those bastards were using –”

“Mom! Stop it!”

She complies.

_Jade’s Fire_ points home.

\----------

The X-wing meets the freighter halfway.

Luke lets out a long exhale. Shmi is whole and unbruised; Mara hovers anxiously when he pulls Shmi in for the security of a hug.

Soon it will all be over, like waking up from a bad dream.

**Author's Note:**

> See author bio for discussion on this 'verse.


End file.
